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Anything You Need (Supernatural One-Shot)
Dean Winchester x Sam Winchester x GN!Reader (no Wincest) / requests are open
Summary: The boys discover you've been having some... unpleasant thoughts.
Fic type: emotional hurt/comfort
Potential Triggers: mentions of suicidal thoughts and regret over not having perished to the MOTW
SPN: @wereallbrokenangels (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Not that many things made you cry these days. You'd seen some shit, that's for sure. Mothers pinned to the ceiling in flames, vampires being beheaded, babies crying out for family members that wouldn't come home- and spirits that cried out for company and whose sadness waded through towns like thick, boggy, slimy water.
None of that made you cry.
Almost having the sweet release of death and having it ripped from you by your partners in (quite literal) crime, however? That. That made you cry.
The boys, they chalked it up to you having a near-death experience and copping a few new badass scars in the process. They thought it was shock at first. And it probably was. At first.
But the hours ticked by and you were ushered back into the safety of the Impala and, well, the shock wore off. You'd almost died. You would have been grateful for it, to be quite honest, but no. They took that away.
"Come on, sweetheart," Dean said, leaning over the back of the front seat to look at you, curled up and watching the window with a fairly dead-inside expression on your face. "You can't still be upset. We almost die every damn week- so tell us what's up, huh?"
Your eyes shifted from the window to the door handle. If you pulled it you'd fall out onto the road and get flattened like a pancake by that semi crawling up the Impala's ass.
"I'm fine," you replied thickly, not making eye contact.
"All due respect but that's a load of crap," Dean said, scoffing to himself. You could see Sam watching you in the rearview mirror as he drove along the highway. He knew something serious was up. It was only a matter of time before he pulled over and sat you down for a big long chat about your feelings.
"All due respect but I don't care," you replied back before the words had registered in your head. You regretted them as soon as they left your mouth and the clenching of his jaw and flash of hurt in his eyes as he looked to his brother for help just lodged that heavy stone of guilt further into your gut.
"Sorry. I'm- I've not been myself lately," you sighed, not wanting to get into this but not feeling as though you had much of a choice now. "You-you ever just... wanna die? Like, not actually die, but you just feel like it sometimes?"
Dean was quiet, looking at your knee as he processed the words. Sam's eyes flicked to yours in the mirror again.
"Yeah, I've felt that before," Sam said after a beat, avoiding his brother's piercing stare. "I get why you didn't, but you could have told us."
You dropped your head onto the car door, huffing out a grunt because to be honest- that was all you could muster right now.
"Fuck, I didn't know I was living with the Downers' Club," Dean said, scratching at the back of his head. He didn't mean anything by it, of course. Humour was his coping mechanism. He was quiet for another moment. "Shit, I- you know I'm not good with the whole words thing. Hang on-"
Then Dean set down his father's notebook and clambered over the back of the seat, landing unceremoniously next to you with a grunt, mumbling something about mud on the leather.
"Wh-Dean-" you said, moving to make room for him. He just shushed you, set his feet down in the footwell and turned you around so your head was in his lap. You looked up at him, melting into his touch. He put one hand under your head, bracing you and making sure you didn't get a neck-ache, and with the other, caressed your hair, massaging at the scalp.
"No good with words but I'll be damned if I don't know how to play with someone's hair. Sammy used to love it when he was a kid. Used to get these nightmares 'n nothin' would calm him except me touchin' his head. Little weirdo. Got damn good at it, though."
You snorted, but you couldn't deny the magic he was weaving with your nerves, untangling them and braiding them back together. You felt your muscles slowly start to un-tense, and your eyes drift closed with pleasure.
"We're always here for you, darlin'," Sammy said, reaching a hand back and over the seat to brush your cheek comfortingly. It looked like an awkward angle, and it was gone a moment later, back on the wheel.
"Absolutely," Dean said reverently, looking down at you with so much love in his eyes that you could feel it warming you up from the inside even with your own eyes closed. "Anything you need."
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People will always talk about loving unloved animals even if they’re scary and people think they’re dangerous.
“Sharks are actually absolute sweethearts!”
“Look at this snake, it’s adorable!”
“Rats are friends!”
“Bats are helpful and we should protect them!”
But the second you tell them about how Wasps, cockroaches, millipedes, centipedes, spiders, or really any bug that isn’t something “cute” or “pretty” is important and needs love…they’re be absolutely baffled and insist on continuing to hate on that creature. It sends them into a tissy.
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